For the Future
by Polarissruler
Summary: Something cold and metallic touched Alcor's neck – a knife. He turned around to see a man with short, dark hair. "I'd say it is nice to meet you, monster," the man's said the word as if it was the worst insult he could think of – no, the only insult he could think of, "but I should not be lying all the time. It is a bad habit for those, who deal with information."


The cold winds blew on the top of Tokyo Tower. From his temporary base, Alcor watched the world. A laptop with his almost-finished masterpiece – the Demon Summoning App – lied on the floor next to him. The people, tinier than ants, moved around, too absorbed in their routines. Those poor souls had no way to know that tomorrow could very well be the last day in their lives. Alcor felt a strange feeling in the chest – worse than dying and being reborn, more painful than a demon's attack. Once again, Polaris had chosen to exterminate humanity. Once again, Alcor was powerless to stop her. No, the people had to prove their worth alone.

Long ago, Alcor had sowed the seeds, that grew in the humanity of today. He looked after them the whole time and now he had to put his trust in them. They would survive – that much was sure. No matter what fate threw at them – the Black Plague, the Chernobyl disaster – they fought it, rising their heads and never surrendering. That choice had always intrigued Alcor – it was much easier to give in and be a pawn of destiny, going with the flow of the time. Why was freedom such a gift for them – why were they willing to risk everything, including their lives, for it?

Was it something a being like him – a being that should have no free will and only act in the name of the Administrator – could not understand? Alcor had always hoped his creation would overtake his creator one day – but to happen so fast? Now only guilt lived in him. He had given humanity knowledge and sentience, yet they existed only to be pawns of Polaris. What would they do if they knew? Would they all be like Hotsuin and accept Polaris as a fact – as something that cannot be changed? Would they give up all their desires for freedom in the face of something so absolute?

Alcor looked at the stars. Tomorrow, the trails of humanity would start. Even though he already knew humans would win, his heart still pained. So many unfortunate souls were going to die during Polaris' maintenance, only to be reborn in a new world, formed by the winners. So many lives were going to change, because of the will of few.

Something cold and metallic touched Alcor's neck – a knife. He turned around to see a man with short, dark hair. In spite of the warm weather, he was wearing a black coat with a fur lining. "It's beautiful, isn't it? All of them with their own story and life – I wish I had enough time to see them all to their end. But once everything is over, it would be pretty lonely, don't you think?" His voice was sharper than the knife, full of malicious hate.

Alcor took the knife with a swift movement and threw it to the side – physical attacks never did much damage to him. "Who are you?" asked he with an eternally calm voice, as cold and distant as the starts.

The man took another knife and pressed it to Alcor's neck. Thick black liquid, like tar, flowed from the tiny wound and covered the blade.

Alcor smiled – humans always exceeded his expectations. No one should be able to hurt him – at least not at that moment. Even by the end of the week, only a few should be able to do any damage to him. Yet a human wounded the strongest Septentrione. Alcor decided to play his game for a while – rarely there was such an exciting twist.

"I'd say it is nice to meet you, monster," the man's said the word as if it was the worst insult he could think of – no, the only insult he could think of, "but I should not be lying all the time. It is a bad habit for those, who deal with information."

The strange man pressed his knife further, hoping to hurt Alcor. The pain was nothing compared to being deleted and then restored; would it be wise to fake suffering? Alcor did not want to end the encounter too fast – his curiosity needed to know just how the man learned about him.

"You intend to kill me. Tell me – why?" Alcor's voice sounded so genuine that one could believe if the reason was sound enough, Alcor would offer to kill himself.

The knife dug deeper in Alcor's flesh – from mildly irritating, it became slightly painful – no more than an accidental cut while shaving (Alcor had tried that once and gave up some twenty wounds later; he later advised some champions to beg of Polaris to remove the need for that, yet they all refused).

"I'm sure I already told you – you are a monster. Knowing you live amongst my precious humans," the man glanced from the top of Tokyo Tower as if the city below was only his domain, "will cause me many headaches and sleepless nights."

Alcor frowned. Ah, he was one of those fanatics, then. They saw him as a demon, an impure being with the single goal of corrupting humans and sending them to hell. Why were humans so thick-headed – Polaris had always changed people with her verdicts; even the current generation existed a result of past wishes.

No, something in his wording seemed off. It was a single word that made such a huge change – where exactly?

"Did I insult you?" The man read Alcor's frown incorrectly. "Oh, I'm so sorry," spoke he with fake concern, "I did not even know you had feelings. Well, if I have already broken your heart, it's time to break the rest of you," said he, voice even more hateful.

By now the knife had become quite the nuisance. The man thought he could kill Alcor at any moment – quite the wrong idea – and was prolonging the pain for his own pleasure. He wanted – no, he needed to – gloat his win to someone. Alcor glanced at the laptop – a few minutes until the demon database was uploaded. He could bear with the pain until then.

"Say, something monster!" The man twisted his knife – by now it was in Alcor's neck all the way to the handle (quite uncomfortable).

"Oh, I'm in such pain." If Alcor had a single weakness, it was his (complete lack of) actor skills. His voice – soft and expressionless – was an eternal constant, an essential part of his programming.

The man's expression did not change – did he believe such an oblivious act? "You think it is fun to mock me? You should be thankful I don't want to make you suffer more than planned." With those words, the man cut off Alcor's head from its body. Quite a pity – Alcor had just gotten used to it.

Black blood spattered everywhere, drenching the man from head to toe. The lifeless, headless body lied in his legs. He smiled, like Alice after finding a friend. "And Yamato said the Septentriones were strong."

The blood returned to the corpse, dissolving it like acid. Another black splotch melted the head. Mixing and coiling, the torrent of black sludge took the shape of a human.

"I advise you to not try it again," Alcor spoke slowly, a bit stiff and still unused to the new body's movement. Yamato had told that man about Alcor? He did not look like the others at JPs, but the Chief was known as taking everyone with enough skills.

"If you plan to defeat me to stop Polaris' judgment, I should spare you the trouble: I am not the herald, but the last envoy of the end. The Administrator has foreseen the possibility of me being killed. She programmed me to be unable to die until my turn comes. If my death could stop her judgment, we would not be leading this conversation." A single note of sadness came with the last sentence and disappeared in the sounds of the town, but the man's sharp ears caught it.

He smiled once again – still like Alice's horrific smile – walked next to the leaning and looked downwards at the people. It was pretty late – most of them had gone home. "Beautiful, as I was saying. I understand why you love this place so much. I feel like a king, ruling over my empire." There was no trace of malice left, only silky, sticky coldness. The man's personality turned over and yet stayed quite similar. He offered Alcor a handshake. "I am Izaya Orihara, an information broker."

Alcor stood next to him and spoke as if nothing important had happened. It was a necessary skill when your closest confidant was also your worst enemy. "Yamato knows well he cannot kill me. In that case, why has he sent you?"

"Hasn't Yamato taught you basic manners?" Izaya pondered on the thought for a while, then realized Yamato also would not waste his time with pleasantries. "When someone introduces, you should introduce yourself, too."

"You already know about Polaris and my true identity. Should we waste time on such pointless talks? Oh, is it another human custom?" If anybody else said that, Izaya would giggle at them. But Alcor sounded so sincere, truly wishing to know everything about humanity, that Izaya laughed with his whole heart.

"I guess you lack people skills more than Yamato. To answer your question, I knew about you before I met him. I suspected you were some kind of demon, not that an alien. My friend would love to meet you! He could even throw his girlfriend away if he knew something like Septentriones existed." Izaya stopped thinking for a moment, the demonic smile returning to his face. "Nah, I could not do something so cruel to him – but it would be interesting to watch how Celty would react to him falling heads over heels in love with you."

"I also knew I cannot kill you – he told me that. As I see, his info was correct. But I don't trust people like him – he reminds me a bit too much on myself. And I would never trust myself – much less someone I barely know. I came to ask you about something."

Izaya seemed sincere enough. No, it was not exactly right to call him sincere – there was something in him so different from the other humans. His voice sounded so charming and repulsive at the same time that Alcor could not believe even a single word he said was completely truthful.

"I have done a favor or two to JPs' boss," said Izaya in the same casual way one would talk about his day, "but never met him. He's not a people person by any stretch. I wonder when he's going to show his deredere side to someone - it will be interesting to watch." Mockingly, Izaya pretended to be eating popcorn.

"But enough about Yamato's non-existent love life. Imagine my surprise when he came knocking on my door, saying he detected a demon around my address. Me – using those things! In the end, his radar pointed at me. Since the genius of JPs was gone, we had no idea if it was simply broken – their science department is a bunch of whiny kids, who can only cry as things go from bad straight to hell. As I was going home, he told me more about you – and that's how I got here."

Alcor had stopped listening after Izaya spoke about the demon detector. A human to become a demon? Not exactly a far-fetched possibility; all demons had to come from somewhere. Most of them were the desires and fears of humanity, yet few humans had also managed to become myths – a tall tale that everybody believed. Alcor materialized a phone to check the name Izaya Orihara in his Compendium.

"I have nothing personal against demons – after all, they are humans in the purest sense, but that makes them a bit too predictable. Alines on the other hand…"

Izaya stopped talking, noticing Alcor was paying him no attention at all.

"Really? You and Yamato are the same – stuck in your little worlds, planning everything. I suspect you are the type, who tells people to wait on the phone and leaves them hanging. The joke is fun the first few times, I get it, but not doing it on purpose kind of ruins the meaning. What are you reading?"

After Alcor did not bother to respond, Izaya pushed himself close enough to look at the phone. His thick coat (Why would a human wear something like that in the summer? Alcor needed to research human clothing more.) was brushing against Alcor's skin.

"Celty and Shizzy-chan? Are you making a list of monsters around here? Then I've got some more to add. Tom, maybe – I don't know how human could stay so calm all the time. And Namie – I still suspect she's a demon, who's planning to eat my brain while I'm sleeping. Yet her cooking is enough to die for."

Alcor did not move away, too immersed in his searching to notice. He slipped past tens of demons; the Compendium still quite unorganized. Finally, he found what he sought – Izaya Orihara; not defined demon race.

"Wait, why am I on this list? Why am I a demon?" It was no question, but a clear threat, as Izaya put a knife on Alcor's neck.

"Humans started believing in the story of Izaya," Alcor spoke, softly and calmly as ever – the knife was completely useless and unneeded, "more than the real being. They have turned you into a myth – a legend that will live as long as their hearts yearn for someone like you." Reading the entry in the Compendium, Alcor for first time frowned. "As long as humans romanticize the darkness, the destruction, the madness, as long as humans wish someone to possess them like an object and destroy their lives, you will exist."

Izaya left the knife, smiling even wider than usual. "You are saying humans love me so much that they gave me eternal life? Why, thank you world!" he shouted from the top of Tokyo Tower. "I love you so much – much more than before!"

Alcor threw the phone and it disappeared in the night. A demon like Izaya, set free in the world of the Void and without a master? He was going to turn people into his pawns, make them believe he was still human and use them to reach Polaris. No, the new world had to be created by humnas!

"Ominous Star," Alcor used his skill. Izaya, too absorbed in his speech, did not notice the spell hitting him. A Mazandyne threw him in the air and Izaya disappeared, his body having taken too much damage.

"Farewell, Izaya Orihara," Alcor spoke, his voice cold and emotionless as ever. "Botis," the demon coming as soon as his name was called, "make sure to watch him. He must not exit the demon world, unless someone summons him."

* * *

AN: Izaya and Alcor together - at first I thought they would clash completely, but the more I watched Durarara!, the more I realized they have lots in common. Here lies the result of long planning and even longer procrastinating. After changing the idea numerous times, I finally present it to you.


End file.
